


apocalyptic dance

by ravenhoes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Cheating, Crying, Galaxy Metaphors, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love, i guess, none of them are thinking the same thing and it's very messy, not the saddest thing here tho, so many galaxy metaphors, so much character study, this fic is the epitome of being gay and dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25253251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhoes/pseuds/ravenhoes
Summary: It becomes a known fact among the team that Neil and Andrew are a thing. Kevin expects this event to be some sort of closure for the intense year that they all had. What they all get instead, is a severe universal scolding.(Or, Kevin's universe might be falling apart, but that is yet to be seen.)
Relationships: Kevin Day & David Wymack, Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day/Neil Josten, Kevin Day/Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 36
Kudos: 113





	1. Kevin and the Universe.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic comes from the (correct) idea that kandreil was meant to be by universal orders and we were, you know. Robbed. so yeah happy reading.

KEVIN.

**BEFORE.**

When Neil and Andrew kind of sort of acknowledge not that they are in a relationship, but that they are essentially each other's person, Kevin has already seen it all.

Kevin Day has been chasing dreams for so long they started feeling like duty. It's not that he doesn't enjoy dedicating his whole self to exy anymore, but there has been a constant sense of urgency poking the back of his neck since before Kayleigh Day passed away. The dreamlike quality will always be there, it's in his blood— but so will the urgent sense of it. And that is okay. Kevin learned how to deal with pressure long before any of his teammates and that is the reason he is so determinately infatuating. Kevin Day knows how to chase dreams until they are cornered, close enough to reach and catch.

He noticed immediately when Neil Josten started looking at Andrew Minyard like he was a dream.

Neil himself didn't seem to grasp the idea of it until very later on, but Kevin had been watching and analyzing the same idea for a relevant amount of time and the fact that he is not permitted to intervene —both physically and emotionally—, shakes his core and leaves him feeling naked in front of a mirror, paralyzed. He wanted Neil to react, to pursue, to make being with Andrew a goal, something to work with as he works the drills Kevin gives to him.

So, yeah. When Neil and Andrew get together, the goal is achieved, the dream becomes reality, and Kevin expects a handful of things.

In the first place, he expects to feel relief. It's disappointing when this doesn't happen, but that was actually wishful thinking _(he could never feel relief at Andrew being with someone else)._ It wasn't a surprise. 

In the second place, he expects Andrew to feel relief. It does not happen and this, unfortunately, is a surprise, but it's more complicated than that.

_(Kevin knows Andrew could never feel complete relief. He knows that about him, he knows the reality of the situation and he has learned to accept and respect that. Kevin had expected, however, that Neil —safe and healthy— would cause a bit of tranquility. Andrew wants Neil like he wants nothing else in the world. Kevin knows this, and it baffles him that Andrew is still looking like he's desperately missing something —desperately, in his own blank and quizzical way Kevin has not been always been able to decipher, but he has learned—.)_

In the third place, Kevin expects closure.

In his structured hypothetical predictions about future eventualities, Kevin wondered once or twice about how the past year would turn out. He theorized that things would go badly, but he dared to hope that if there was supposed to be an after, things would eventually fall in line by themselves; the team in perfect syntony, united and better. _(He gets a weird pang of guilt and anger, of sorts, when he thinks: more like the Ravens.)_ Kevin was never a patient boy, however. And he is not a patient man.

He expects the cycle that started with his old best friend breaking his hand and his trust will end with his new best friends happy and in love. This should have been a prophetic event; a resetting of the universe's defects; a sunrise— the sunrise.

What he gets instead is a severe universal scolding. 

**I.**

What's tricky about the situation is that Neil and Andrew seem to be falling slowly into place, but they do it with each other, and not in the perfect alignment that Kevin had foreseen.

This is annoying for Kevin at many levels. This is a shock for the whole team at many levels, too. Although if Kevin thinks about it, they should've seen it coming.

The side effects of their newfound balance are incredibly destructive. Neil becomes a modern Aphrodite, lovestruck, and healing slowly, resurging from the water with more grace than expected; Andrew walks the finest line between the states of helpless honeymoon and raging paranoia. Together they dance around each other as if some sort of celestial gravity was pulling their strings, and they feel like something else entirely from the rest of the team. The team's chemistry on the court is strained; their efficiency lowers at such a rate Kevin is glad they don't have any upcoming games or any other important events that could force the Foxes to be the underdogs once again. For the first time in his life, the gap between game and game allows Kevin to sort out and solve this very troubling situation instead of killing himself over existing during that period of time. _(He doesn't bother checking if someone else is trying to solve it; he'd do it better. He doesn't check if someone is killing themselves over existing either.)_

_(No one checked on the others at the Nest, anyway. They had companions as a bird has the wind; the rhythm and the flowing have variations, but ultimately, the bird is on its own.)_

Kevin has the time, and he has the means, so he takes a seat and sorts things out. 

Neil and Andrew are not even half of the team. They are not even half of the Monsters. When two out of nine separate themselves into a different orbit, shouldn't the other seven that are left be able to maintain the equilibrium and the group as a whole? Shouldn't the majority that's left craft the pieces back together and keep the whole thing from breaking apart entirely, at least? How can two individuals step out and disintegrate such a well-crafted system?

The answer to all of these questions is simple— the system is terrible. Because although the Foxes have functioned decently at some point, the problem is rooted inside the very core of the dysfunctional tendencies of the team: the Monsters.

The Monsters were never friends, not even family, at times, but more of a strict yet fragile allyship. Proved by this unwilling experiment, the dynamics are heavily unbalanced and codependent on one another and are more glaringly obvious every day that passes. There is no solid structure, but a very destructible house of cards.

Andrew had always been the evident core of the group, giving away deals of loyalty and promises that he struggles with but rarely breaks. His exclusiveness is what makes the Monsters what they are, what forges them together however they might not exactly enjoy each other's personalities extraordinarily. He is a whole planet with the force of gravity forever in his favor, and it offers a trustable protection. 

Kevin is the single moon of this planet and he holds onto its gravity with the same desperation as he did back when his hand was still broken.

Aaron is Andrew's twin star, which is an annoying if accurate metaphor. He and Andrew swirl and twirl and threaten to push and break, but they can never seem to completely destroy the other. If one of them finally did, the damage would be mirrored on itself when they collide and mix their broken pieces.

Nicky is the inhabitant that Andrew and Aaron share, and he switches between them regularly, takes care of each, and is rewarded with a welcome if reluctant free pass on most days.

Neil was a recent addition to their solar system. At first, he seemed like a small planet, to the foxes; a newborn star, to Kevin. But if he's being honest, Neil is the sun Andrew orbits around. The sun is a star, Kevin knows, and Neil is also a fidgeting, chaotic, unraveling shooting star— a comet.

When a comet falls in love with a planet, and the planet makes it his sun, the orbits change. It is impossible and ridiculous in all the senses, but it has happened as if it were bound to be. Now that Andrew and Neil have made their collision, the apocalyptic dance of the Monsters spins on itself, and their universe has began to crumble.

Aaron is left without a half and goes to Katelyn, his own personal moon; Nicky runs out of spaces and is completely lost in outer space; Kevin is left hanging, sorting out. In other words, Aaron misses practices, Nicky is extremely disorientated, Kevin is quiet. This last point is, although surprisingly, unfortunate and a very bad move from Kevin. 

It turns out he actually helps to keep the foxes in line, and without his obsessive yelling they've become comfortable. Dan is an extremely tired leader, Matt is lonely, Allison cannot, by all means, replace Kevin in her incessant criticisms, and Renee won't ever be able to keep them all from crashing and burning, no matter how hard she tries. The poor freshmen are blissfully blind to the whole mess, and believe this dynamic to be normal. Kevin doesn't want to believe it if there is a probability that they might be right; that the Championships were merely some sort of Last Hurrah before it all crashes and burns down.

It's been a while since the not-so-happy not-so-couple established itself and brought destruction and despair into their not-so-peaceful practices and not-at-all-peaceful lives. Kevin wonders if there is a universal order they all are somehow missing. There is a hole so big somewhere in his chest and he wonders if anyone else is feeling it too. 

Kevin Day reflects, becomes quiet and that, according to reliable sources, it's pretty much an apocalyptic sign. Neil and Andrew are probably making out on the roof again, and Kevin is laying down somewhere at the Campus, looking at the sky and being angry at everything ever in the whole world. And even when he finds himself safe from Riko, with a newly found father (and a newly found family), with a very promising career, even under the warmth of South Carolina, with a soft breeze brushing the grass and Renee's gentle voice as she announces her arrival, Kevin finds that he cannot breathe.

"You seem stressed."

"I'm always stressed."

"You don't always show it."

"Practice makes perfect."

Renee takes a seat next to Kevin's space of despair. She holds her knees against her chest, pink jacket sliding slightly off her right shoulder, lilac hair buzzing with the breeze, plays with her feet. Kevin is invaded by an inexplicable sense of endearment. It's strange, not only because of who he is, but also because of who she is.

"You've been lonely," Renee says.

Kevin blinks.

"What?"

"Lonely."

Kevin frowns. If he had been, he didn't notice. He was thinking a lot, and thinking does not at all require talking. People talk to each other, right? That's what having company is about.

"I can't follow Andrew all the time anymore," Kevin says. He wouldn't want to interrupt his and Neil's happy couple time. He wouldn't want to witness it. Riko is dead, has been dead for a while now. His anxiety about the world is now pointless. He shouldn't feel like he needs Andrew —or Neil— as much as he does.

"No," Renee agrees. "You can't." 

Kevin sighs, tired. "Is this the 'I think you should get some other friends' lecture?" he asks. "Because I'd largely rather you would punch me."

Renee doesn't reply. Kevin still lays on the ground. He wonders how possible it is for the earth to absorb him completely; become part of the ground; disappear entirely. Then he remembers the freshman striker who needs to work on his aiming, and dismisses the thought for now.

Then Renee speaks so softly he could've missed it if he wasn't waiting for it. "Andrew and Neil can't follow each other all the time either, you know?"

"Oh, they can," Kevin spits, feeling bitter.

"They shouldn't," she corrects herself. Lower than before, she continues, "Andrew and I haven't been sparring in a while." 

Then, and just then, Kevin allows himself to check on her— actually see her.

Renee looks disconcerted. This is a shock, because Kevin sometimes forgets that Renee is as human as any of them, and is not a perfect wise diety meant to guide them through the rough path that college is and into the light. Renee is a marvelous creature with experience and beliefs and certainty, but she misses her friend as much as Kevin does.

Back in the Nest, he was more of a Captain than Riko ever was. Like many things in his life, Riko took the title when Kevin had the credit. He decides he will not let his team, his Foxes, slip through his fingers without doing anything. He refuses to leave Andrew to completely isolate himself from reality. He saw it happen before and it was close to the worst thing Kevin ever experienced. 

Kevin decides to intervene.

"It seems I will have to intervene."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Intervene."

Renee raises her eyebrows. "How."

Which is, actually, a good question. He doesn't allow Renee to see through him and recognize his doubt, because soon enough he's declaring, "I'm going to talk to them," more confidently than what he intended to. "And they're going to listen."

"Avoid attacking directly, if you can," she warns, and she means "avoid punches" as if Kevin had a death wish.

"Wasn't even thinking of it," Kevin agrees. "I might have to lecture them, though."

Renee chuckles softly, nodding. "If done right, lectures hit harder than punches. Especially from Kevin Day," she teases.

Kevin agrees, once again, but he's not about to say it out loud.

He doesn't notice himself saying goodbye, but Renee won't hold any grudges. Maybe. He knows where Andrew and Neil are _(physically if not emotionally; Kevin will never know about emotions regarding Andrew and even less regarding Neil)._ He marches towards the roof.

**II.**

He finds Andrew on the roof. Alone.

The sky reddens bloody as the setting of the sun stains it, and it does nothing if not giving Andrew a strange aesthetic light. Usually, he will be seen as opaque, numb, black of soul as his clothes. Kevin sees it differently, saw it differently when he intended to make him a raven, and he saw it differently when he verbally promised his back to Andrew for the first time in the shape of a deal. The deal is a line that's drawn and glossed over depending on the person and the current external situation, but its presence is always pinching the back of Kevin's neck, still bumping inside his veins, warming his chest and cheeks at the thought of it. Kevin sees Andrew and sees a bloody sunset. 

Andrew has a cigarette between his middle and index finger and Kevin knows Andrew knows Kevin is there, even when facing his back. He mildly considers the possibility that is too late, Neil and Andrew are already a single unit, and the team and Kevin's life, in general, will only go downfall from this point. Andrew has already turned Kevin into his second priority, and Neil has made his favorite person another boy. He saves that train of thought under For Later, remembering their new strikers and goalie cannot hold the game forever and Kevin Day will be damned before he takes apart another team.

"We need to talk."

Andrew doesn't spare him a look. He twitches at Kevin's baritone. It's a bad day, from what Kevin can tell, so he won't approach him until Andrew's comfortability is mildly clear at the very least.

"So talk."

As it was expected from Andrew Fucking Minyard, he is never comfortable ever. Kevin is done waiting. He takes what presumably was Neil's place next to Andrew, doesn't look at him, and doesn't even try to address him physically. 

The thing is, he doesn't actually have anything concrete to tell Andrew. Kevin wonders if Neil's presence would've made it easier, although deep inside he knows it would have not. He wonders if he's going too far into Andrew's safe field of things, overstepping boundaries, taking for granted a friendship he isn't sure was given to him in the first place. A cold needle stings from the inside of his chest at the thought. _(Not only you're second as you always were— you're not even his friend.)_

But he is still Andrew's teammate. This is the motivator he takes when he opens his mouth. 

"I need you to listen when I do," Kevin says, because he can never tell when Andrew is listening, and he can never tell when people want to listen to him. It's a negative, more often than not, but Riko is gone, and Kevin is free, and he is done shutting up. He would be happy to talk about everything he knows all the time and keep on doing so until eventually someone sits and hears— but this is a threat of stability to the whole team. He needs Andrew to listen.

"I'll think about it."

It's not enough of a promise, but Kevin will take it.

"I'm not here to attack you."

Andrew doesn't miss a beat, "You wouldn't dare."

"No," Kevin says. "I wouldn't."

"You are here to give me a Kevin Day Lecture."

"Better me than Dan," he reminds Andrew. "Or Wymack. Or Nicky."

Kevin knows that Andrew knows. Until he finishes his cigarette, Kevin studies the fourteen freckles under his right eye and the possibilities of Andrew actually answering. 

Shattering the incredibly low odds, Andrew does. "Your lectures are a hundred times worse than your punches, you know that?"

Kevin chuckles softly, despite everything. "Renee said the same thing."

Now Andrew has gone quiet and takes another cigarette. Kevin is no fluent in the Andrew Tongue, but it's clear that this was the wrong thing to say. Kevin doesn't have a single memory of Andrew becoming tense at a mention of Renee the way he just did, so this is his first clue. To what, he doesn't know yet, but he saves the information under For Later, and considers what to say to Andrew that won't surely make him go off. Not Renee, for sure, no matter how curious he might be. Maybe he'll comment on it as the conversation flows, but he is still missing words for what he has to say. Words he had thought would come to him eventually, as they always do because Kevin would never stop talking, if he could. Instead, he finds silence and doubt where once had been blind confidence.

Because now, sitting next to Andrew for a long time, even if not the longest they have been around each other in silence, only helps Kevin realize much he missed Andrew's presence. He supposes it was automatic, at some point, to be around Andrew as he was. It was comforting, if not the weirdest companion he ever had. But he was tougher than Jean, and softer than Riko, and he cared at least more than Thea. Kevin finds himself not being angry anymore— not even annoyed, or afraid. He feels tired.

It's a funny thing. None of the adrenaline he had when he left Renee under the tree is with him anymore, and without a fire to fuel the rant, he can't force himself to do much other than sitting there, waiting for someone to speak, hoping it doesn't have to be either of them.

Unfortunately, the universe doesn't work that way.

"You know I have nothing but respect for your relationship with Neil—"

"Let me stop you right there, Day." Andrew gets rid of the burnt end of the cigarette throwing it off the borders like he's about to get rid of Kevin the same way. "One, it's not a relationship. Two, don't use your media-trained open-mindedness with me. I know better and you know that."

"I was supposed to talk and you—"

Andrew goes on once again as if Kevin didn't speak, "Three, your toxic heterosexuality is sickeningly boring. Don't fake it for my sake, I don't care what you think."

The thing is, Andrew is a douchebag, but he's a careful one.

_(The word was homophobia. Kevin understands it, and that is enough reason not to say it.)_

The thing also is, Kevin knows since he was a little boy, there's no use pretending to be straight. Not to himself, at least. The Nest was all about repressing; the better Kevin knew himself, the better he was able to hide the aspects of himself that wouldn't be as warmly accepted as others. Hiding the fact that he was interested in boys as much as in girls was no different from hiding the fact that he wasn't into torture as much as Riko was, or that on that particular Tuesday he didn't want to eat fucking lettuce. For Kevin it's never about repressing and hiding away from himself, trying to forget, but to address it as a simple fact, and hiding it better.

For some reason, Andrew knows this. Kevin thinks sometimes, there's no way Andrew knows everything about him. Other times it seems impossibly true.

But this meeting has gotten longer than Kevin intended it to be, and the fear of not being as important to Andrew as he once was pinched his core before and he can still feel the aftershocks if he thinks about it. He actively doesn't want to think about it.

"Ignoring your duty as starting goalie in favor of whatever you have going on with Neil is as prejudicial to you as it is for the rest of the team, including Neil," Kevin says, surprising himself and suddenly alarming at the previous choice of words of Andrew, 'It's not a relationship.' He wonders if Andrew means that. He wonders if Neil knows that.

"I have nothing going on with Neil." Andrew takes a drag of his cigarette. Kevin has a sense of deja vu and a sense of waiting for something to explode. "Neil is nothing," Andrew says.

He says it with no care for the world— care Kevin believed not extinct as everyone said but hidden, perhaps. He says it as if he weren't aware of the undeniable fact that Neil is close to everything to Kevin.

With that taste on his mouth, Kevin can't help but whisper, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

Andrew's eyes illuminate with something he doesn't care enough to name. "Is that so?"

Kevin actively doesn't want to think about that.

"I'm missing balance," he snaps. "Bring it back to me before I have a breakdown. We still have a deal."

After half an hour of unrequited glances, Kevin is greeted by unflinching brown eyes. Andrew's words are so raw Kevin can taste them in his own mouth, "I don't know what you want me to do."

And by the way that Andrew has never shown this sort of vulnerability to Kevin —explicitly stating that he doesn't know something, which Kevin has doubted an infinity of times—, Kevin is distracted and vulnerable enough for Andrew to find something inside him Kevin isn't sure he wants to know about.

"I never know what you want," he tells Andrew. It's awfully off-topic, but this conversation has drifted enough for Kevin to be allowed this, even if he's not. "Not until after you get it."

"Believe it or not," Andrew starts, still looking at him, "what I want is not always that big of a deal."

And Kevin doesn't know what that means, but Andrew doesn't give him time to figure it out before he flips his cigarette off the borders of the roof for the second time, promising something about Neil being competent again and leaving Kevin behind with a sky that doesn't have any remains of the warmth of the sun anymore. It's awfully fitting, and Kevin hates it.

In the end, he doesn't bring up Renee or Exy or the team, because Andrew does what he wants, talks about what he wants, and Kevin has never been this tired.

Maybe he should talk to Neil.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in this universe, Andrew never went completely out of character in trk and never fucking choked kevin ((wtf)), now I don't know how he found out about Neil but it was Not Like That. make ur own canon. start a riot.
> 
> feel free to point out any mistakes as I don't know Anything About Writing At All and I don't speak english as a first language and also this has no beta. Anyway this is a mess i hope you like it thanksss


	2. Neil and the Empty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a fact that Neil Josten has been trying to fill himself with Andrew's time. Andrew will tease but he will give him what he needs, and now everything's on edge because they cannot seem to notice anything else but each other.

NEIL.

**BEFORE.**

Prior to his mother running away with him and stripping away any sense of identity he could have as a child, Neil remembers being a lot.

Not necessarily a lot of _things_ , but instead all the things he was, out in the open with a raging euphoria. If he was passionate, he was obsessive; if he was loud, he was thunderous; if he was anything at all, he couldn't be anything else.

Then everything in his life collided within itself and his mother took him away. He became nobody pretending to be everyone. Unknown and unknowable, and it left him being nothing. This runaway life molded Neil into a very strange creature and that is a negative thing, apparently, and it needs to improve, for everyone's sake. That's where Betsy Dobson enters the picture.

Betsy Dobson is a therapist, and Neil doesn't like therapists any more than he likes doctors, but Andrew trusts her, and Neil trusts Andrew, so he supposes she must speak some truths about things. He has monthly sessions with her and it's surprising when he finds he has many things to say. Perhaps not ones that Betsy would find helpful to his process, as she calls it, but it's nice that she listens. Sometimes he wonders if he crashes down and explodes but no one is there to see it, is he actually not fine? Betsy says he's not, and she says that thought comes from Neil not truly considering himself a person— not yet at least. But that subject is too deep, and nothing other than Exy holds his interest for that long. Usually, he doesn't want to talk to this woman about anything else other than Exy, so he doesn't. But in his last session, after he said he was like an empty body —it was pretty dark— Betsy said something that slapped him in the face and stuck with him for a long time after.

"What trauma does to our brains isn't leaving a void, if you will," she explained with all the patience in the world. "It does base itself on something important that is missing, yes, like trust, freedom, or safety. But it's more than that."

Neil wasn't particularly interested, but he humored her for reasons he still doesn't understand. He doesn't just _humor_ people— he ran out of pity a while ago. But he did it. "What more is there, then?"

Betsy smiled gently, pleased he had responded. "It's about what remains in the space the missing thing was supposed to fill."

This, he remembers, piqued his interest just the right amount. "How's that?"

"Well," she smiled even wider, "for example, in the absence of trust, its reserved space will be filled by skepticism. In the absence of freedom, its space will be filled by a need for rules. In the absence of safety, there will be fear filling its space. And so on."

And a week later, Neil still finds it profoundly fascinating. The way everyone thinks about people like Andrew or Kevin as devoid of empathy or any other positive thing seems even more ridiculous now. They are not empty, but extremely full— just not of the right things.

Neil doesn't consider himself full, though.

His memories overflow more often than not and even if Neil Josten's are the ones he holds more dear, the rest and majority belong to strangers. Whenever he remembers something that happened once in Spain, he doesn't remember it like Neil, or even like Abram; he remembers being Alan. Every memory from after he was ten has another name on the brand, even before that, too. But Nathaniel is dead, and Alan and Stefan and Chris were not real. He is Neil Josten, and Neil Josten's memory box is awfully empty. It's not that he doesn't feel like Neil Josten. It's that he doesn't think Neil Josten is enough of a person— for anyone. And it's like his body is nothing but a vessel of the twenty-two people that have passed through him and left it with some kind of scar. His body is afraid Neil Josten will leave it, and Neil is afraid of being too shallow to be a person, too much void to fill, too many holes, for whatever fills the space, to remain inside.

He still makes an effort to fill them, though. _(Mainly with Exy, but he has been trying to fill himself with Exy since before he was empty at all and it frustrates him to no end when it's not enough.)_ That's when Andrew enters the picture.

It is a fact that Neil Josten has been trying to fill himself with Andrew's time. Andrew will tease but he will give him what he needs, and now everything's on edge because they cannot seem to notice anything else but each other.

Neil notices easily this is a bad day for Andrew, for example. Or a bad week. Or a bad month. Neil notices he's restless, frantic. Quite as if he were high, perhaps, if he didn't look so wrenchingly _low_ , and it's baffling that no one else notices it. But Neil is seeing it all the time, sitting on the roof, seeing the way he flinches if Neil speaks in a low voice without previous warning; the way he hasn't been around anyone else all day but Neil, and the fact that this is not an abnormal occurrence; the way his mind is loud enough so he doesn't talk, but will do so if Neil asks. And he doesn't want to listen, but he will do so, if Neil asks.

_(No one would notice this other than Neil. He has not always been able to read Andrew in such a way, with such ease, but he has been around long enough. He learned.)_ He doesn't ask. 

He watches the sunset instead. 

It doesn't last. 

"Talk."

But if Andrew wants him to speak, Neil won't be the one to deny him.

So Neil talks.

He tells Andrew about what Matt did for his and Dan's anniversary last month. He tells him about Nicky giving him a bracelet with the asexual colors. He tells him about the last time Kevin ranted at him in French about buying the cheapest and least healthy something-something, and how it has been a while since then. He tells Andrew he feels a bit guilty for ignoring Kevin lately. Andrew tells him not to be stupid.

"Sorry, have you met me?" he replies with a grin.

"I wish I hadn't."

"Sure," Neil says. "But, I mean, he's different, Kevin I mean. Quieter than when I first came here."

Andrew raises an eyebrow and adjusts his armbands. "And you think it's your fault?"

Neil takes a moment to breathe, closing his eyes and remembering the pattern. He does this every morning, but sometimes he forgets how to remember for so long. "I wouldn't presume to have such an impact on Kevin's psyche, but. Well," He runs a hand over the back of his neck, "you've been ignoring Renee because I asked you to hang out with me."

"I wouldn't do such a thing for you, Josten," he says easily. Neil smiles in anticipation. "You're nothing."

It's different when Andrew says it than when Neil is thinking it. The way Andrew says it makes him feel grounded. It doesn't sound like an order— be nothing, be no one. He doesn't say it as something he personally believes, as something that makes Neil flawed, but as a factual truth. The universe doesn't care what his name is, the body that he's in; if he's being stupid, if he's fucking everything up, if he's empty and if he's trying to fill himself; if he stays and heals instead of running away and assigning yet another personality to his body. The universe doesn't care, because Neil is nothing, in the great scheme of things. Neil is free.

"Yeah, okay, but listen," Neil continues. "This is serious. Kevin is _quiet_ ," he stresses. "As in. Doesn't talk. During _practice_."

"You mentioned that before, actually."

"Well, if it isn't because we're ignoring him, then what is it?" He stops talking and goes over facts for a moment. "Do you think it has something to do with Riko?"

Something burns inside Neil at the thought. By the hardening in Andrew's molten eyes, he isn't the only one.

"You pay a lot of attention to Kevin, don't you?" Andrew asks.

Neil supposes he does. Kevin has always been something real, filling his spaces with his familiarity, even from distance. He used to hero-worship Kevin. At this point, paying attention to Kevin's every move comes out naturally to him.

"It's kinda hard not to," he replies. 

"It is," Andrew speaks, as if the statement is miles deeper and thoughtful than what it actually is. 

Or maybe Neil is just being dramatic. He doesn't understand the point of the comment, though, and he isn't sure he likes that.

"Why'd you want to know?"

Andrew huffs. "I want nothing."

"Are you sure about that?" he intends to go for a simple tease. It sounds as if it's miles deeper and thoughtful than what it actually is.

Andrew doesn't respond. He stops listening to Neil and starts listening to his own mind.

When the usual thought hits Neil — _no one else would've been able to know that_ — there is no warmth next to it. There is too much closeness in this dynamic, he suddenly notices. But there's still an empty space between them.

Naturally, he starts wondering. He wonders if it's Neil Josten's own nothingness striking back at him. He wonders if Andrew notices this. He wonders if he's just projecting. He wonders if he's taking too much from Andrew.

He decides to go on a run, to pretend his body is his, and pretend he doesn't know what is going on at all.

  
  
  


**III.**

It's weird because if they weren't feeling it, then it wouldn't seem like there's something off, but there is. 

They both notice this. When they're debating on the existence of werewolves, it feels like someone is not saying enough; when they study together, it feels like none of them is absorbing enough information; when they kiss, breathtaking as the kisses are, their lips carry a disconcerting numbing sensation; when they hold hands, the other two hands that are left, feel lonely. Maybe the word isn't 'enough'. Maybe the problem is that there's something that is not there at all.

He knows he should've brought it up. It annoys him sometimes that he can't think properly when Andrew speaks or does anything around Neil.

He tells all of this to Matt, because Matt listens unlike Allison, and he doesn't tell other people like Nicky, and he makes sense when he tries to give him solutions unlike Neil himself. He looked fairly surprised when Neil knocked on his door after an intense run that had tired everything in him except his brain, hoping Aaron was out for some miraculous universal reason. It was so, miraculously— Aaron was out, and Matt welcomed him, and something started to click.

"So," Matt starts, after Neil info-dumped all over his dorm. "That's why you've been living inside your own little bubble lately."

Neil flinches. "Yeah, I guess we've been distant with Kevin these last couple days."

Matt's eyes flicker with amusement and something else. "Just Kevin?" 

It's in that exact moment that it hits Neil. He wonders if he can still deflect. 

"Renee?" he offers. Matt nods, not in agreement, but encouraging to keep giving him names. Neil sighs. "I'm sorry."

Matt laughs. The bastard. 

"No problem, man, just don't do it again," he says. "We were all a little worried. Even Aaron," he whispers the last part as if it were a secret, and Neil makes a face. He does not like Aaron. Matt laughs again. "But, whatever. It makes sense that you'd think it'd be better if you spent more time together. Did it help?"

"Not one bit," Neil says, throwing his face on Matt's bed dramatically. He can practically feel Matt worrying his lower lip.

"Maybe the problem is you."

Neil jumps abruptly at this.

"What."

Matt runs a hand through his hair, exasperated but patient. "That came out wrong. Not you, like, _you_. Maybe it's one of you who's missing something. Maybe you want something. And it reflects on both of you."

Neil considers. He knows he's missing something. The wanting part is the one that disconcerts him.

He doesn't know why, but the next thing he says is, "Andrew says I talk a lot about Kevin."

"Maybe you're missing Kevin," Matt says. He says it like it's not a big deal. Like it could be easily solved.

_Maybe you want Kevin_ , is implicit.

This, for some reason, makes Neil angry.

"I don't need Kevin, I have Andrew."

Matt rolls his eyes, as if thinking, "this oblivious child." Neil doesn't like it very much.

"Having a boyfriend is not the same as having friends."

And it's strange how it hadn't occurred to him before. Matt saying "having friends" implies putting Kevin in the role of his friend, even if he doesn't think about Andrew as his boyfriend — _Andrew is so much more—_. He considers Matt his friend, and Nicky. Kevin is not the same as Matt or Nicky, but he isn't the same as Andrew either. It hits him that if Neil wasn't thinking about wanting Kevin as his friend, he doesn't want to consider what the alternative was.

This makes Neil angrier.

He shouldn't be, considering he was the one to bring up Kevin in the first place, but he is far past being rational.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Matt laughs louder than the other times and it brightens his face. It makes Neil less and more angry at the same time. It's annoying.

"Thank God," he says, still chuckling. "I thought you were going to keep talking about Andrew and Kevin until I died."

Ignoring how much Neil _doesn't_ want Matt to die, he wonders if it could be true, the fact that he's been talking either about Andrew or Kevin or werewolves for at least weeks.

He doesn't want to think about that, so he doesn't. Matt changes the subject to tell him about his classes. Everything is not fine, but it has never been, not really, and at least it is better than it was before.

  
  
  


**IV.**

Neil stays irrationally angry at Kevin for the rest of the evening. 

It's completely unjustified, but undeniable. He boils with rage and Kevin isn't even _there_. He doesn't want him there, anyway. He doesn't go back to the dorm because he doesn't want to see Kevin's face, and instead stays on the roof.

It's completely undeniable, but unjustified. Neil does want Kevin as his friend. He wants to _be_ a friend for Kevin. But Kevin isn't Andrew.

Because the thing about Neil is that he loves Andrew. He won't say it out loud, but he does. He would choose him every single time, without question, without hesitation. He will orbit around Andrew as if he were the Sun until Andrew eventually tires of him. It doesn't matter if everything between them at the moment is strange and sticky without actually sticking properly. Neil will stay because Neil Josten _stays_ . Neil Josten is _defined_ by staying, unlike all the other people who have occupied his body. Neil will stay with Andrew because Neil is in _love_ with him. Not Matt, not Nicky, not anyone in the entire universe but Andrew. He can't feel that way about _anyone_ else. It doesn't feel right.

But Neil doesn't even know why he's having these thoughts all of sudden. His brain is defending Andrew without even knowing if he's being attacked. It's been a few hours since he left Matt's room, and it's been enough time since he spoke to anyone. He can feel the void creeping into him, drifting him away from everything he built and throwing him to outer space. He wishes Andrew was there to tell him he's nothing. The universe doesn't want to claim him— he's his own. He doesn't need to be filled.

As if on cue, Andrew makes a silent apparition, looking as if the plate of spaghetti had dragged him all the way up to the roof.

"Eat."

Neil eats.

Andrew is weirdly tender, Neil thinks, as he traces Neil's jawline with his fingers and hums. Less tender than what people think he should be, but more tender than what people would believe of him. The night is warm, warmer than it should, just as Neil's stomach. The warmth is sweet and smooth as it makes its way up to Neil's cheeks. He can feel Andrew's eyes on him as tomato sauce drips off his chin.

"Staring," says Neil, almost whispering.

Andrew doesn't look impressed.

"You're a mess when you eat." He uses the sleeve of his jumper to clean Neil's face. "It's gross."

"I'm a mess all the time."

"True."

Neil loves him.

_(Why is that not enough?)_

"We're going to practice tonight."

Neil should've seen it coming.

He and Andrew haven't been attending the night practices for almost a week. If Neil was avoiding Kevin, he hasn't taken notice. If Andrew was avoiding Kevin, he clearly wants to end it right now. He wonders if it'll be awkward. He does feel guilty for ignoring Kevin, and he has been missing Kevin —just as he has been missing his sense of self, among other things. He's still somewhat angry, but it _is_ all in his head. 

He nods, because although Andrew phrased it as an order, Neil knows better.

They stay in silence for a little more. The absence of _something_ is deafening. 

"Yes or no?"

Neil can only hope it will be okay.

"Yes."

  
  
  


**V.**

If Kevin is surprised when he sees them, he doesn't say.

Both Neil and Andrew remain silent as Neil enters the Court. Kevin is quiet, too, and he has been for weeks but Neil can't get used to it. It's so different from that particular Kevin Neil rolls his eyes at, who can never do anything halfway, or even moderately. Whose critiques sting but motivate, who has too much information and will share _all_ of it. 

Kevin doesn't seem angry that he and Andrew haven't exactly been around lately, but Neil is trying very hard not to antagonize Kevin in some way and aggressively step on this planet-size circle all three of them have been walking around for too long. But quite honestly, he is feeling very antagonized by Kevin's silence. Kevin and Andrew share a look. One of them is daring, the other begs for aid.

It doesn't take long until both Kevin and Neil get competitive. Abducing the adrenaline of the sport, Neil's mind begins to wonder.

He wonders again about Riko, and burns inside again. If Riko Moriyama is the reason Kevin isn't pointing out how _poor_ Neil's aim is today, Neil will raise him from the dead just to kill him again. _(He doesn't get to claim Kevin anymore, Neil thinks, bitter and defensive and another thing he cannot sort out yet. Kevin is not his anymore.)_

But Riko isn't there for Neil to be angry at him. Kevin has words visibly hanging at the tip of his tongue, Neil can practically _feel_ him chewing and swallowing them. He wonders how long it will take for him to throw them up.

Neil takes his turn as backliner, he pushes Kevin with too much force and little technique. Kevin doesn't even flinch. Neil is sloppy, and doesn't need Kevin to tell him, and he doesn't have words for how much he doesn't want Kevin to tell him. Kevin can talk about anything else, if it were for Neil, but nothing that makes Neil irrationally angry all over again.

"Is this about Riko?" Neil can't help but ask.

He knows it's a mistake the moment the words leave his mouth. It seemed unlikely that he could remain in silence, with Kevin's recent attitude.

"What?"

Neil doesn't take the time to think about how much he missed hearing Kevin's voice. He didn't, it's stupid. Kevin could shut up forever and Neil would be cool with it. Grateful, even. 

"Is this about Riko's death?" he repeats, hesitant but assertive, almost accusatory. "The reason you've been so quiet lately."

Kevin sighs. "I'm not doing this."

"So it is," Neil presses.

"You know what, Neil?" Kevin says as he turns and looks at Neil directly in the eye. Neil doesn't shy away. "I don't have any reason to answer that, but no. I've been quiet because you two," he points at Neil and then at Andrew, looking bored behind the plexiglass, "unbalanced the entire team by practically disappearing and going on a honeymoon to God knows where every two days— but it's clearly not the Court, not even at the time you're supposed to be here."

"Are you joking?" Neil says, with more confusion than defensiveness. "Are you and the rest of the team so useless that you can't hold a team together when literally just two of us are gone?"

He remembers the conversation he had with Matt and apologizes internally. It seemed as if he was actually sidelining everyone on the team. It's astounding how much Neil doesn't want to think about that.

"No. That's not the point," Kevin points at Neil again with his racquet this time. "You won't make it to Court if you keep ignoring your responsibilities as a Fox for the sake of romance."

It's a lot deeper than romance, actually, but Neil didn't have much patience when this conversation began, and he is in absolutely no mood to tell Kevin about his personal crisis. 

"Why the hell do you care so much if I make it to Court, if _you_ will make it anyway?"

They're yelling now. Neil is surprised they didn't start earlier.

"Why the hell do _you_ care if I'm quiet during practice if you don't even _go_ to practice?

"Because we're supposed to be friends, but you're—"

It's clear that Kevin speaks before thinking, but it still stings when he says, "I don't want to be your friend!"

It does indeed sting. It's perplexing to think that Neil doesn't even know what he was arguing for. Kevin's annoyed because the Foxes are a mess again, apparently, but Neil doesn't think he was even defending his and Andrew's _thing_. Maybe Neil just wanted to fight. He was worried about Kevin, though. He wants Kevin as a friend, but it looks a lot like Kevin can't even stand him now. He vaguely wonders how long it will take for Andrew to feel the same.

Neil says, "You could've said that before," just to antagonize. It comes out in the weakest voice he's ever spoken in, so it doesn't meet its purpose.

Kevin sounds even more defeated than him, "What— what were you going to say? What am I?" he says it as if he's humoring Neil. 

Neil suddenly cannot find the energy to care. He doesn't know what he was going to say himself. Distressing, perhaps. Obsessive. Annoying. Insufferable. _(Passionate. Dedicated. Caring.)_ Why does _Kevin_ care about Neil of all people? Why doesn't he want to be Neil's friend?

It's not what he was going to say, but he says it anyway. "You're nothing."

It tastes almost holy in Neil's mouth. It passes through his lips with such a gentleness that he isn't sure he's able to go through for many people. He doesn't understand why he chose to say that to Kevin, and he doesn't understand why Kevin looks like Neil just stuck him with an arrow and broke him in half, bright green eyes disconnected and pink mouth ajar in shock.

Neil hears heavy footsteps behind him before Andrew is pulling his wrist _(when did he enter the Court?)_. He must think the atmosphere is still violent instead of disconcerting. Maybe it is, and it's just Neil and Kevin out of place and tone in the Court— in the universe.

"That's enough," Andrew says as he starts taking Neil away from Kevin. He didn't even notice he was that close to Kevin until then. "You both need some sleep." 

And Andrew's probably right and they do need some sleep, but somehow Neil doubts that's the problem between them. He's practically out of the Court when he turns to see Kevin. 

He stands in the middle of the Court, looking lost but still so clearly claiming his place in the world. He stands there with his Queen tattoo prouder than himself, royalty defeated with a too-heavy crown and his racquet on the ground _(when did the racquet fall from his hand?)_. He stands there and Neil thinks he looks like a kicked puppy. Kevin stands there looking alone— looking lonely.

His hold on Andrew's hand tightens until his fingers hurt. He _can't_ feel this way about anyone else. It's not right.

Neil doesn't get any sleep that night.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil: Kevin Kevin Andrew Kevin Kevin Kev-  
> Anyone Ever: hey maybe you have a thing for Kevin  
> Neil: *extremely loud screeching*
> 
> Anyway this chapter Does have a beta so that's a good thing. I still feel like my writing skills on this one dropped and fell onto hell and lower but what can u do. I hope you enjoyed reading it and if you didn't then that's very sad <333


	3. Kevin and the Collision.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin has been second before —all his life, even—, but he has never been nothing. Not until now. 

KEVIN.

**VI.**

Kevin likes things that make sense.

He actively enjoys the sensation of being able and allowed —which is more important—, to analyze and understand the mechanics of the situation, then seeing the pieces fall slowly into place to form the intended resolution. He enjoys logic games. He enjoys stories that don't tell him every detail, and he has to figure out certain parts of it by understanding the narrative correctly, and this is the reason he chose to major in History. Kevin likes to believe he is, actually, quite intelligent. A trait of his that more often than not prevents most people from enjoying his company, is that he's extremely passionate about what he likes or does. He can't do anything halfway. This is why he doesn't like things; he loves them, and why he doesn't do things; he lives through them.

So, logically, he loves and lives through things that make sense. A team that functions relatively well, for example, is something that Kevin loves. He could say he loves the Foxes exclusively when they are functioning well.

_(He could say he loves them individually, but it would only be truthful in two cases only.)_

He's loving the Foxes right now. 

Today, Neil and Andrew arrive together and on time, don't act like they're stuck at the waist like horror movie twins anymore, and do relatively decently. They hold hands for a while— Neil, mostly, holding onto Andrews's hand as if he were to drift away. After a quick word with each other, Neil joins Matt and Andrew is undoubtedly _not_ with them. Matt's face transforms into an expression so bright Kevin is afraid it will affect his sight.

He decides to take a deep breath and follow Dan's lead as she puts a start to today's practice. For the first time since he was a Raven, playing feels like a chore— no, that's not right. It always feels like a chore. He does it all as a chore because he interprets them as such because that is who Kevin Day is. For the first time, this chore doesn't feel like an activity he enjoys. He wonders when his whole life started feeling so off, and weird, and _wrong_. 

He doesn't. Instead, he does his thing and his drills and ignores Dan when she says, "Hey, don't kill yourself there, Day," with a worry Kevin doubts of it's genuine. He never knows which worry is genuine, it's frustrating.

And Kevin will, in fact, kill himself training if he wants to, because there is something incredibly unfunny about working to put the team into their orbits again, only to be rewarded with sloppy footwork on a Monday. Why is everyone in the team doing better than him? He's the one actively trying to fix them and their dynamic. It seems unfair if you ask Kevin. He wonders what could the universe want him to offer for it to be _right_ again.

But then, not only Andrew and Neil have disentangled their forever united hands, but Andrew is doing something Kevin would've never, in his twenty-one years of life, see coming.

They are on the other side of the Court, so hearing what they're talking about is off-limits, but Kevin is absurdly pleased, because it's clearly visible how Andrew approaches Renee, almost timidly. Their conversation lasts for minutes, and Kevin doesn't even feel guilty for staring. When he thinks this is the best that could ever happen, Renee gives Andrew a warm smile.

Kevin mirrors the smile, not bothering to check on Andrew for obvious reasons. It feels like a breath of fresh air. It's Monday, which means that Andrew, Neil, and himself have had time to recover from that fiasco on Friday night— meaning, since he confronted both Andrew and Neil on the same night, which was quite a poor chain of decisions for Kevin to make. Kevin has not, in fact, recovered since then, but he is so grateful that worked.

It's not at all like before, of course. Not yet. But something has shifted, spun on itself. Now, Renee has an opportunity to have her dynamic with Andrew back. _Planet 3 and Planet 9 in-orbit again_ , Kevin thinks, feeling terribly smug. The problem between them was an absence of communication, an absence of understanding, an absence in general, which is something relatively easy to solve when all parties involved are on the same page, or want to be. Kevin wonders if he could apply that to other aspects of his life.

Matt and Nicky laugh at something Neil is saying, and as he continues with the drills, Kevin mentally annotates that Planet 4, Shared Inhabitant, and Comet 10 are back in orbit with each other.

  
  


**VII.**

Kevin did horribly all day.

Dan said he was okay, and Wymack said it wasn't terrible, and Andrew said not to be stupid. But Kevin Day doesn't do _not terrible_ , he doesn't do _okay._ He's the legitimate son of Exy; he was raised to be the second-best and the best is dead; he used to be a Raven, and the feathers are hard to shake off.

So, what Kevin does immediately after other lesser responsibilities are done, is to kill himself training.

He does his drills until his muscles are sore and his breath runs faster than he did. He does some Raven drills but he won't tell a soul. He practices until he isn’t _nothing_ anymore, until he can say to himself that it doesn't matter if Neil thinks so, and it doesn't matter that he's second to Andrew. It doesn't matter, because he is the best. Because he stopped being second long ago. The pitiful glances of anyone who passes by —like Dan or Wymack or any other authority figure he's supposed to remember— are outweighed by the knowledge that Kevin needs this. If not physically, as Kevin himself thinks, then psychologically.

Then he leaves so he can eat, and because he has not gotten at all better, he comes back.

He doesn't expect Andrew or Neil to come tonight. Not after the disaster on Friday.

Truth is, Kevin would love to just apologize for what he said and beg Neil to get back the friendship he had been offered, but this is not possible, since Neil made his feelings towards Kevin very clear and Kevin will not overstep that boundary. It stings, of course. Neil has a way of saying things that sting. And Kevin doesn't really want to think about that.

Because it wasn't the most romantic of the confessions by all means, but he doesn't think Neil's response was required to be that brutal. He'd like to say it's not new, to pretend he had no expectations and knew it was destined to be that way _(for some reason, acting like he doesn't have any dignity left is useful in pretending he does)_ , but he can't. Neil is someone who takes all to the extremes or not at all, and Kevin can understand that— hell, Kevin lives by that, but Kevin is not yet devoid of his sense of preservation. 

Kevin has been second before —all his life, even— but he has never been _nothing_. Not until now. 

_(Not until now, in the hands of one of the two people he most wanted to be first for. Or anything, really, even second— even third. He wanted to be_ something _, but as it often happens, it turned out he wasn't anything at all.)_

This doesn't change the fact that Kevin doesn't particularly want to be Neil's friend, but that he will, if Neil is willing to take him. He will if that's all he can get. _(And it is, because he and Andrew are each other's person, and Kevin needs to mourn his chances with Neil as he did with Andrew. He needs to get over himself.)_

This is why Kevin feels himself internally beam at the sight of Neil Josten as he arrives at the Court.

And it is most definitely not what he should be thinking about, but Neil is beautiful. He has a versatile way of carrying himself; at times, it seems like he doesn't want to be inside his own body at all; right now, he looks like a force of nature, hair painted in an angry red and yet it's his very presence, his heavily loaded steps towards Kevin that burn bright under the artificial lights of the Foxhole Court. When Kevin eventually meets Neil's stare, it becomes clear that not even his ocean eyes can put the flames to rest— if anything, his eyes are burning brighter. And Neil is gorgeous.

Neil is gorgeous and a force of nature and a supernova, and he stops right before Kevin like that, as if Kevin isn't holding every atom of his whole being to avoid taking him in his arms and kissing him until his face is redder than his hair and his skin burns brighter than his eyes.

They breathe in syntony for a few minutes, staring at each other and nothing else.

"Is Andrew coming?" Kevin asks, lacking something better to say.

"No." 

Kevin nods.

"Why?"

Neil shrugs, and Kevin takes notice of the number 3 printed on his orange jersey. It's too big on Neil at the shoulders, and it shows off his collarbone just the right amount. Also, Kevin should stop checking Neil out when his boyfriend isn't there. Or at any time.

Neil says, "It's been weird, lately. With Andrew and me." 

This is incredibly shocking to Kevin. He probably lets it show, because Neil looks away from him, almost embarrassed. Kevin wonders what could Neil ever _do_ to make Andrew not want him anymore. Maybe there's not.

Kevin is within this particular form of existence in which he is in love with two people who are together, and he can't help the situation when he gets inevitably irritated when they demonstrate this, not only on one side, but both. It stings doubly and it stings different; colder and sharper. 

_None of them wants you,_ is a usual thought. _They want each other so much_ , is close by. It's easier to see it all as sweeter and better when you're drowning inside your own pit of bitterness, so it is indeed shocking when you find out that things are not, in fact, as tasteful as you once believed.

Kevin recalls the thought of Neil and Andrew dancing together in this fox apocalypse that has been around lately, but if his stellar comet and planet are not in orbit, then the whole universe he has created will turn around completely. He isn't sure he can see that happening and stay sane.

But now Neil is here, alone and too bright, asking for something he isn't sure what it could be.

Kevin cannot offer any words of comfort. He has always been better with his muscle memory rather than his tongue, but he isn't about to offer Neil any hugs— the paint is still too fresh, and he doesn't want to stain.

So Kevin offers what Kevin knows.

"Wanna do some sprinting drills?"

Neil grins, not happy, but content.

It's strange how he and Neil can bark at each other for hours but at the end of the day, it resolves into this. Running and sweating and putting their heads into something else. They know each other, they know each other's game, they trust each other to play a certain way, a way they know and share. 

But Kevin can't accept Neil waltzing into the Court after practically a week of absence and acting as if he means nothing to him.

So they do drills, and then they play, and then Kevin throws the ball and it bounces on the plexiglass. 

Neil throws a questioning look at him, but stays otherwise unbothered. He's breathless and flushed and his eyes are bright. Kevin's eyes fall to Neil's lips for a moment, bitten and pink and ajar as he pants. He averts his gaze in less than a second, just before Neil turns to look at Kevin. Neil's own glance pierces through the atmosphere as if it were silk and into Kevin's skin. 

Neil is still trying to recover his breath when he starts, "I think Andrew's…" He stops, as if trying to choose the right word. "I think Andrew is trying to… _do_ something," he says it very slowly and very quietly, uncertain, as if it were a secret, or something that doesn't make much sense to him.

"Andrew is always trying to do something," Kevin says with a small laugh. He's not amused, though. "Don't let his apparent nonchalance fool you."

"Oh, believe me, I don't," Neil says. "But I thought you could figure it out for me, since you have so much experience at figuring Andrew out."

"I'm not the one who's dating him."

Neil doesn't look impressed and rolls his eyes; there's a bit of Andrew in the bit of bored expression he portrays, but the eye roll kind of reminds Kevin of himself. The distress of this realization reminds Kevin of all those times when Kevin swings his racquet the way a Raven would, and it's mostly Neil who catches the ball, and when Kevin's mornings are too heavy to handle, it's no one but Neil who puts his coffee in the microwave, and when everything comes back to haunt him, it's Neil and Andrew both who shoo it away from Kevin until he can breathe again on his own.

But Kevin has a racquet in his hand and a friendship to fix.

"I'm not "dating" Andrew," says Neil. Something has shifted, and the atmosphere is bleeding. "I thought you were his friend."

Kevin does wonder about that too.

And Kevin is sure neither of them has ever had such a strange conversation, most likely because neither of them actually knows what the purpose of this conversation is. They might be angry at each other but they sound pretty mild. Polite but confused. Maybe this is connected with what Andrew is trying to do. 

During the short conversations, he and Andrew held since they started talking to each other again, the subject of Neil was brought up a lot by Andrew. He said Neil's name differently, almost like when he used to say Kevin's name differently. He wonders when he stopped emphasizing the K and the N, pronouncing the vowels gently as if they were going to break, biting his lip visibly at the V. He wonders when it _stopped_ at all.

Kevin breathes. Or rather, he takes a moment to do so. He still feels remorseful about it. He still feels like time will run out when he does.

"I thought I was _your_ friend," says Kevin, because he has better things to say, things that will get him into trouble.

Neil frowns. "You said you didn't want that."

_You said I was nothing_ , Kevin thinks but doesn't say— won't ever say, at least not tonight. Neil is on his tiptoes, talking as if he was thinking about saying certain things before. As if he’s planned it. His eyes are wide open, he holds his breath. Kevin wonders if Neil had actually _wanted_ Kevin to say it.

Everything about the situation screams at Kevin to fix whatever is shattered, but it doesn't feel like it's broken at all. Instead, there is a knot between all three of them, stopping them from completely reaching each others' mindset. There is tension everywhere they go, everywhere they meet, and it's a matter of time before the knife starts cutting through.

Tonight feels like a disentangling night, but Kevin thinks they only managed to mess the situation up even more.

"I think it involves you and me," says Neil, as if leaving that little exchange for later, or for never. "What Andrew is trying to do. And I think he isn't happy about it."

"Why would he do it, then?"

"I don't know." Neil raises a single shoulder in a shrug, moving the fabric of the shirt even lower down his shoulder. The freckles of his newly uncovered skin reflect the lights of the Court and Kevin is so blind.

Kevin says, "He told me that what he wanted was not always a big deal." By the way, he tilts his head, this statement seems to have caught Neil's interest. "Whatever the hell that means."

"That's dismissal," says Neil, mostly to himself. His eyes are tired when they get lost at some point behind Kevin's shoulder. Kevin thinks it must be the lack of sleep. "Not a riddle."

Kevin is tired of not understanding Andrew's and Neil's edgy talk, and he decides he will get it when he needs to. He is too afraid of misunderstanding everything, when with Riko misunderstandings could mean a huge mistake and a huge punishment. He'd rather not try at all, if he is to be wrong.

In the end, Neil doesn't apologize or take back what he said, and Kevin doesn't ask him to. Neil and Kevin practice until the sun starts to show its light if not yet itself rising over the horizon, and the birds greet the soft colored clouds with enthusiasm. Andrew is right, once again, when he says they need more sleep.

  
  


**VIII.**

"Our deal is over."

It's Tuesday evening. Kevin just came back from a self-required extra practice because he did _okay_ and _not terrible_ in practice once again. Now, Kevin is spread on the couch watching a documentary on Ancient Greece when Andrew's words startle him more than his sudden appearance.

Andrew is standing by the door of their dorm, looking like he owns the world. Kevin feels like a mop in comparison because he has been mopping for days while Andrew has been plotting for days and _this_ was the outcome. Kevin truly is nothing but a Moon orbiting Andrew.

His chest aches. It's definitive. It's a statement, a fact. There is no room for questions. Maybe that's the reason why Kevin asks, "Why?" Andrew seems like he wants to answer, which is in itself a surprise, but Kevin doesn't let him, "Our deal ends when I sign my contract. That's still far away if you ask me."

Andrew doesn't seem impressed. "Riko is dead. You have a more than excellent career ahead to keep you on the Moriyamas' good side. You're safe."

Kevin ignores the pang of regret at Riko's mention. He is in no mood to grieve these days. He focuses on Andrew instead, and discovers he doesn't care about his own safety that much in this scenario. 

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Andrew reiterates.

Kevin resist the urge to flip him off. "What about my part of the deal?"

Andrew is painfully stoic, more than usual, and it matches all the other clues that this conversation is final.

"You fulfilled." 

"Neil," Kevin says, more to himself than Andrew. It's not necessary to question. It was not what Kevin had planned; he intended to make Andrew enjoy Exy, maybe make a career out it; the purpose he promised. But Neil seems to work just the same. How could he not?

Andrew pretends to consider this, as if Kevin were stupid. "Yes," and it sounds like a half-truth, but it's a truth.

For all Andrew claims not to lie, his vague answers are barely truthful, even if they're honest. And for all Andrew likes to call Neil a liar, he's not that far from lying all the time himself. They are so distinguishably similar sometimes, it makes sense they look for comfort in each other and not Kevin.

It's a recurrent thought he has, but its bite hurts the same every time. It was always meant to be this way. Andrew selects and tests and protects. It only makes sense he would find something to live for and hold onto it for dear life. It makes perfect sense that it's Neil— Neil is part of Kevin's own reasons to live. It was stupid of Kevin to ever believe it could be him for Andrew, though. 

Andrew has Neil now and Neil has Andrew and Kevin will have what he has. It's not people, and it's not enough, not even close to what Kevin longs for. But it's what he has. It's painfully obvious. Kevin doesn't have enough to give, and he isn't enough to offer himself, and that's _it._

_(He thought he was, once, with Riko, with Thea. He knows better now, and this conversation is nothing but the climax of Kevin's final understanding that he needs to look after himself because no one ever did it for him and no one ever chose him first, and it's probable that no one ever will.)_

Whether it's desperation, or bitterness, or heartbreak, something makes Kevin reiterate, "So that's all? I'm officially off the hook now?"

Andrew offers nothing but a half-hearted shrug. Kevin thought he would simply say yes. Andrew Minyard isn't known for his tactfulness. Kevin wonders how honest Andrew is actually being with him.

Andrew's apparent indifference doesn't match his words, as usual. "You gave me something to live for," he says, slowly, as if he were still planning the sentence in his head, "and you know to what extent I'm willing to go to keep it."

Kevin wishes Andrew would just say Neil, or refer to it as a _he_ ; make it sting properly. He never takes his eyes off Kevin as if he's expecting Kevin to do something— to figure something out. Andrew must not be as smart as he thought, Kevin considers, if he thinks Kevin doesn't have a clear understanding of the situation. He always has, in some way. The rejection of course, still stings.

"I don't think I'm ready to be alone," Kevin tells him. He doesn't have any intentions of manipulate Andrew into not doing ending their one year and a half bargain —not that he could, if he wanted to—, he is just being honest.

"You will not be alone," Andrew speaks quietly, yet the meaning clear. "You're just safe now. And free. You don't owe me a thing, and neither do I."

Kevin lets out a self-deprecating laugh. He feels empty, all of sudden. "I better hire a bodyguard, if that's the case."

Not a thing makes a sound, but it's undeniable that something in the atmosphere just dropped. Andrew looks at him as if he's the stupidest person in the world. 

"You," he reiterates as much, before leaving the room, "are the stupidest person in the whole world."

  
  


**IX.**

After Wednesday's practice, Wymack wants to speak to him. Kevin does not want this, but he doesn't want to be the one who chooses otherwise.

Kevin has been doing _okay_ and _not terrible_ for three days in a row, and once again it was not enough for Kevin. When he tripped and fell after attempting a goal he vaguely wondered if it had been the universe that tripped him.

But it's not the time to think about that. It is time to think about David Wymack, also known as Father. This development is not new but it mixes messily with the fact that he is also known as _Coach_. Kevin finds the line between Son and Fox quite blurry. He figures it must be similar to Wymack. So Kevin calls him Wymack in his head, because it's closer than Coach and more distant than Father. 

Wymack isn't particularly terrible at being a father. He's a lot better than Tetsuji used to be, but he guesses Tetsuji isn't much of an exemplary paternal figure for anyone involved _(he wasn't a father at all, really. Just a very unfriendly uncle)_. Wymack just lacks the _dad_ part, but Kevin is not sure he wants it just yet, so it's fine for now.

"Is everything alright?" Kevin croaks, pretending he doesn't know what this is about. This seems to distract Wymack from whatever he was about to say.

"Christ, kid," he says. "Are you sick?"

It doesn't sound at all like Kevin is sick, but Kevin appreciates the effort. The actual reason for his voice to sound so throaty is because he has not been crying all morning. He has been breathing and calming down, but he doesn't like angry authority figures, and he has never been talented when it comes to swallowing strong feelings.

"I'm fine," he hates that he started sounding like Neil.

Wymack exhales shortly through his nose. It would be a snort, except there's too much caring in it. "Bullshit. Have you been drinking?"

"No," Kevin replies. _Maybe I should_ , he thinks, then saves the thought for a better time.

There is a hard brick wall inside Wymack's eyes. It softens tremendously when the first tear falls from Kevin's eye. He hurries to dry it off, but Wymack is already aware of the situation.

"Do you— are you going to— I mean," Wymack stutters. Kevin takes comfort on the fact that not many fathers know how to comfort their son when they cry. A flaw about their relationship that isn't incredibly rare on its own.

"I'm okay," Kevin insists. "I'm just stressed, it's nothing." The word burns when it passes his throat, stings when it rolls down his tongue. "I've been practicing all day, I'm gonna get better. I just need to practice more."

But it's always like that. Always more. Never less. Second, nothing, never _enough_. He has never been fed talent on a spoon. He learned to lick it off with endless practice and restless nights. His sweat and effort aren't something anyone would ever want to be fed on a spoon; the feeling of himself growing on his bones is a unique experience that will never be enough for anyone else, not if they don't look for it. He has never been fed care on a spoon, and he thought he didn't need it, for most of his life. Wymack sighs again. He sighs a lot, Kevin notices. Then he wraps his arms around Kevin gently, and Kevin cries there, for an hour, maybe. Not alone.

Kevin wonders how you can want something so badly, only to be the one to take it away from yourself.

They don't talk about it when it's over. Kevin has cried so much the universe feels dry. He decides that care tastes good enough when it comes from a parent, instead of a guy whose care feels like being tucked inside a cactus ( _like Neil when he cares)_ , or a guy whose care feels sharp and fierce at all times _(like Andrew when he cared)._

But, yeah. Care tastes good.

  
  


**XII.**

The facts are the following;

Andrew doesn't show up to Wednesday's night practice. 

The season is still ages away; Kevin will be fine by tomorrow or he will force himself to be. 

Kevin no longer has a place with Andrew or Neil, since both of them are so invested in surgically removing him from their lives, but he still has his place on the Court and he plans on occupying it until he overflows.

Kevin shows up to the night practice, with a tiny bottle that can hold more than what it seems inside his pocket, already drunk. Neil is not at all impressed. In fact, he is quite annoyed. But Kevin does not care about that. If he does, he doesn't, he shouldn't, so it's fine.

"You are incredibly stupid," Neil tells him "You know that?"

"Your boyfriend said something similar," Kevin says.

Neil gives him a _look_. Not a pitying look, because it's clear that Neil no longer has any, but somehow, it might be more like an apology. Kevin doesn't have it in him to accept apologies, or lectures, or any other kind of advice. When he passed a very unimpressed Andrew in the hallway he gave him a _look_ , and he may have or may have not said "Not your business anymore," being impossibly bitter and heartbroken, and strutting unsteadily as he left.

Neil and Andrew haven't been together for that long but they have absorbed each other's habits like sponges. Kevin has this urge to rip his heart out of his chest, cut it in half and give it to them so they can absorb it too. He doesn't. He drinks instead. It's fine now, even if he doesn't have Andrew's protection anymore because he's safe. Safe. 

Kevin wonders though why he's left feeling so naked after all the crisis he's been having lately. He wonders why Neil, in his neon orange jersey, is still the most stunning person Kevin has ever met.

"Why the fuck are you so beautiful?"

Neil's reproving face turns off in half a second. Kevin finds his new actual state similar to a stuffed animal.

"What did you say?" It's unusual the words tumble out of Neil's mouth, where it usually lays a thick cape of sass, but Kevin is drunk and he can pretend not to notice this.

" _Nothing_ ," Kevin says. It's hilarious, so he lets out a small laugh. "Are we playing or what?"

So they play.

Kevin is incredibly sloppy and worse than ever. Neil spends the night biting down remarks and turning away so Kevin doesn't notice he's being merciful on him. But Neil's passes are firm and steady and he's slower. He's holding himself back, and Kevin does know a lot about holding himself back for another person's sake. 

Time passes so fast it seems slow. It must be around three in the morning when Kevin asks, "What did Andrew tell you?"

Neil freezes, but he aims and throws the ball correctly, dismissive.

"He told me you were "free"."

Kevin raises his eyebrows and laughs. "If you wanna put it like that."

He tries to aim and throw, as Neil just did, but it barely reaches the end Kevin intended.

Neil sighs. "You can't play like this. We're leaving."

Kevin doesn't miss a beat, "No, fuck you."

It is a truth that Kevin Day takes Exy more seriously than most things. It would come out as a shock that he is dissipating time for practice like this, but this is not about Exy; this is about Kevin. This is about the fact that Andrew Minyard just broke the ground beneath his feet and his universe is falling apart; he wants to fix it with alcohol and Exy because Kevin copes with these things since he's had the need to cope. Neil Josten is looking pretty on the Court, and Kevin can't kiss him, so he will play drunk and no one will stop him.

"Look, I tried to give you this," says Neil, "but it has gone too far and you're hurting yourself."

"Why do you even care?" Kevin slurs.

"It doesn't matter why. I'm not playing with you drunk and that's it."

Kevin lets his racquet fall to the ground. He does that a lot, lately. He hears Neil's racquet doing the same.

"Then leave." He looks at the Court, or tries to, but fails, given he is so invested in not looking at Neil that he can't concentrate on anything else. "I already asked you what I needed to ask and you gave me your answer. Don't try to take it back now because you can't. It's insulting to me and to Andrew and to your own mouthy self."

Kevin isn't looking at him, but he can practically sense Neil stilling completely. Then his arm is aggressively pulled by Neil. He forces Kevin to meet his eyes, and Kevin doesn't think he can stand it. He looks at Neil's hand instead.

"You didn't ask me shit," Neil says, and it sounds like denial as much as a question.

For a moment, Kevin evaluates the thought of him not being clear in what he meant with the statement, "I don't want to be your friend". He wonders why is it that Andrew and Neil call each other _nothing_. Must be some kind of soulmate communication, an invented language of romance, or something. It couldn't be the same as Neil calling _Kevin_ nothing.

Truth is Kevin cannot lecture Neil or Andrew anymore. They attend to practice and don't ignore the existence of the rest of the team; both are doing what Kevin asked. That should be it. This is the reason Kevin was mad in the first place, so it makes sense that they wonder why the hell Kevin is still so angry. The real reason must not have been a mild possibility in their minds. They haven't experienced the sourness that comes with a heart that broke twice. 

_(It broke a thousand times more than two, but romantically speaking, sounds more fitting and less tragic, which is the whole point of Kevin's existence.)_

"If you're worried about this year's season, don't be," Kevin evades the question, and the entire core of this conversation, really. The statement is clumsy, but he's drunk, so it's valid. "You know I don't have anything else that isn't Exy. Believe me, I won't let all the shit that I've been through for this fucking sport be nothing but pointless trauma."

He doesn't usually assert his rightful place as a victim. Mostly he hides himself behind a mask or other people, and he is visibly afraid of things and people that have hurt him in the past, but he never actually acknowledges what he went through. Must be the reason he's always being called a coward. Not that Kevin cares anymore— not that he disagrees.

And now Kevin is drunk, and he's tired, and he's shameless because of it, and for these three reasons, he doesn't stop himself when his mouth runs as it does tonight.

"I'm not leaving." Neil's fingers tighten around Kevin's arm, like he was about to snap. He is once again aware of Neil's hands, and Neil's lips, and his eyes, and his face too close for Kevin to bear for too long. "It's not even about Exy anymore. It's about you being so fucking stupid you sabotage yourself like this. Who even are you? Andrew?"

"Some days I wish," he mutters.

It's an official argument now that the Andrew theme has been brought up to the table. 

It's not a comfortable development. They fought less than a week ago, but this time feels different. This time Andrew is not there to stop them from fueling their flames, and by the end of the night, both of them will burn.

This seems to infuriate Neil even more. He must think it was sarcasm. "What do you even mean?"

Kevin puts on his best bitch face. "I meant that I want to be naturally good at everything I ever try and actually giving a shit about it."

"What the hell is your problem with Andrew? Just because he ended that stupid deal and didn't go to like four practices you think you can just—"

"Also," Kevin continues "I would give a shit about me."

This seems to echo all over the Court. Both Neil and Kevin only being to grasp the concept that they are alone in this place, at this moment. The universe feels incredibly empty. 

The statement makes Neil stop his rant. "You think he doesn't care about you?"

Kevin just snorts and gives Neil a vicious, tired grin. Neil hesitates, but finally, he says, "You think _I_ don't care?" 

They're so close and Kevin is so aware of it. He can always feel time running out, lately more than ever. The light the fire of this confrontation gives is burning so bright Kevin fears he might become blind.

"It's not about that." The words are soft but his voice is practically stone.

"Then what is it about?"

Kevin intends to step away but can only step further. Every time he minds how close they are it seems they get even closer. He minds it's still too far. The space between them is always so wide.

"Explaining sounds like too much effort," he tries to change the subject, not swiftly. "I want to play and I want to keep fucking drinking. Pick up your racquet and get to work."

"No," Neil shakes his head, frantically. It's awfully redundant, Kevin thinks lazily. "No. You don't get to deflect now. You actually think we don't care about you?"

"I told you it's not that."

"Well, I can't do anything about it if you don't tell me what is wrong, Kevin!"

Perhaps it's the alcohol, perhaps it's the hour, perhaps it's the time. For whatever reason, he can't stop himself when he speaks. "You don't care about me as much as you care about each other."

The weight of the realization hits Neil so hard it's practically visible.

"You're—" he starts.

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Kevin doesn't allow him to continue. He looks away. "Please don't say it out loud, would you?"

There is something on his cheek, and for a fleeting moment he fears it might be a tear, but after a moment he realizes it's a finger. Neil's thumb is tracing the Queen inked on his skin. He must have learned that from Andrew. He always did this when he wanted Kevin's attention, back when the queen was still a two. He ignores the sour feeling the thought causes in his chest. 

When Kevin looks down at him again, he is surprised to find Neil looking genuinely upset. And might be his imagination, but Neil looks even _guilty_ as well, for some reason. Kevin knows he isn't entitled to neither Neil's or Andrew's affection; it's a fact, accepting facts and dealing with them it's Kevin's way of survival. Neil shouldn't feel guilty, of all the people involved.

"We _care_ ," Neil says, incredulity in him beating still. "I wouldn't be talking to you if I didn't. I don't know why Andrew ended the deal, but I can assure you it's not because of whatever you're thinking. Of course we care."

Kevin is disgusted at himself for turning so incredibly soft in a matter of two minutes, but something just broke in Neil's eyes, his expression screams lost and confused and guilty, and something inside Kevin falls cold onto his stomach and makes a hole in it. The weight of the booze in his pocket doesn't help to keep him standing.

He holds Neil's wrist gently, his hand still tracing Kevin's features. "I'm sorry it's not enough."

Kevin doesn't have any self-preservation left when he leans down and kisses Neil as if it were a life or death situation. Now that he has the experience of ever doing it in contrast to not doing it, it might as well have been.

For the first second, which feels awfully long, it's barely even a kiss. It's quiet, like a secret, their lips pressed with no further movement. Neil was supposed to lean back immediately, to step away, maybe yell at Kevin, maybe punch him, but he isn't doing any of these things. Instead, he remains in Kevin's orbit a little longer, his eyes not totally closed but not totally open, his breathing uneven, uncertain. 

Just before he's about to step away and apologize, when Kevin's lips are still buzzing from the slight brush from before, Neil kisses him again, his palm completely resting against Kevin's cheekbone, sighting. 

Kevin's head becomes empty. He forgets he's drunk and he forgets Neil is with someone else, he forgets this is wrong because, after weeks, months, years, Kevin feels _right_.

Kevin tilts his head so the angle is better. He responds to the kiss with such a vehemence it forces Neil to bend back a little; Kevin's hands hold Neil's back with care, so he won't fall. Kevin wouldn't let him fall.

It feels a bit far still, but now it's because of how ridiculously short Neil is, so it doesn't bother Kevin as much. His skin burning, his lips burning against Neil's. Neil. Neil is warm and gentler than he should, after everything. Kevin is so entranced he almost doesn't notice when Neil wraps his left arm around Kevin's neck, hand touching his hair like a breeze. Neil's other hand, however, finds Kevin's hand on his back, interfaces their fingers almost instinctively. Kevin feels himself sighing, or maybe it was Neil again. Maybe it was both of them. 

There's not even a bit of tongue; if they didn't have as much experience as they have, it might have been the equivalent to a first kiss between two preppy tweens, but it's _right_. They _fit_ within the universe, not completely because something around them it's cold and empty but they on their own are warm, and they are willing to ignore it because it feels like it has been too long ignoring themselves as _them_.

Kevin's mouth meets Neil's mouth again, a thousand times more, desperate but always soft and gentle and even timid. And then Neil is gone.

Not completely; Neil's right hand is still holding Kevin's left. Kevin can still feel Neil's fingers tracing the scar on it.

Neil looks prettier than ever, bright eyes and pink cheeks, red mouth; he looks handsome and stunning and panting still and Kevin can't breath. He looks more disconcerted than ever, too.

He lets Kevin's hand go; it falls with the heaviness of a corpse. It might as well, when he realizes what they have just done to Andrew. If Andrew doesn't plan on taking revenge, Kevin might do it for him.

Kevin looks at Neil, and Neil looks at Kevin. It's clear they share the same train of thought.

_Guilty, guilty, guilty._

Neil runs.

Kevin doesn't blame him _(but this is the second time in the week that Neil has ran away from him)_.

The sun is not rising, but he doubts any of them will get any sleep.

_And so_ , Kevin thinks, _we burned_.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm okay that shit was so long. Hope you didn't hate it.
> 
> This chapter was so hard to write i— *screams* okay that's on that but I actually finished so Here You Have It and I hope u like it and all that cool stuff.
> 
> Thanks a very big lot to Essence because she edits my stuff so it doesn't suck as much and is Great and Patient and my Idol.


End file.
